


It Always Ends in a Fight

by Skarabrae_stone



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes in Bucharest, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Gen, POV Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skarabrae_stone/pseuds/Skarabrae_stone
Summary: "He’s dressed for a fight, shield on his arm, and Bucky knows he’s come to bring him in.This is, after all, the most likely version of events, the one Bucky has been preparing himself for for nearly two years. It still hurts."Bucky's thoughts on finding Steve in his apartment in Bucharest.





	It Always Ends in a Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post.](http://stephrc79.tumblr.com/post/176265103319/okay-but-watching-the-gif-here-of-bucky-answering)
> 
> I started thinking about why Bucky lies about knowing Steve when they meet in Bucharest, and this happened. Dammit, Marvel, why can't they just be happy?!

He’d expected—maybe even hoped—that Steve would find him, eventually.

After the helicarriers, when he was just starting to remember, he’d gone to the museum and read about himself, about Steve, _childhood friends, inseparable on the schoolyard and the battlefield_ , and he’d felt… hopeful, maybe. He’d thought that, with a bit of time, he could become someone like the guy in the exhibit, in the history books—the kind of guy that Steve Rogers wouldn’t be ashamed to call a friend.

Then he’d started remembering— _really_ remembering—and that thin shred of hope withered entirely. The things he’d done as the Winter Soldier, the blood on his hands—he could never hope to atone for it all. There was no way he could return to Steve, tainted as he was, no way he could ever dare to ask for his friendship.

Besides, he was a wanted man—and with good reason. More than once, he contemplated turning himself in, but he couldn’t do it. He was afraid of being used again, and there was a cowardly, hopeful, _stupid_ part of him that wanted to survive—that wanted nothing more or less than freedom, however little he deserved it.

Later, when he’d replayed the helicarrier incident in his mind over and over and over again, he also realized that, Winter Soldier or not, Steve would probably try to defend him if he got himself caught. Steve was the kind of guy who tried to save people—and that was a problem, because Bucky was pretty sure he wasn’t the kind of person you should save.

So he couldn’t go to Steve, but there remained the possibility, equally dreaded and hoped-for, that Steve would come to him. He’d been in Bucharest for nearly a year, now. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

He’d thought out a million scenarios, all the different ways it could go. All the questions Steve might ask, all the answers he could give.

If Steve had come to him in civilian clothes, had knocked on the door, had called him by his name, he could have invited him in. Could have told him he remembered, at least mostly, and made them coffee and sat at the wobbly-legged table and talked. At his most optimistic, he imagined scenarios where he apologized, where Steve forgave him, where, somehow, they were able to rebuild their shattered friendship. Where the world for some reason turned a blind eye to his crimes, and he was allowed to walk free.

That, of course, is not what happens.

Instead, he returns to his apartment already panicking about the bombing in Vienna, only to find Captain America already there, going through his journal. Bucky’s stomach clenches at the casual invasion of his privacy, even though he tells himself it’s the logical thing to do—he’s a potential enemy, and Steve is probably hoping to find a clue as to his mental state. He’s dressed for a fight, shield on his arm, and Bucky knows he’s come to bring him in.

This is, after all, the most likely version of events, the one Bucky has been preparing himself for for nearly two years. It still hurts.

Steve turns around, and his face is stern, unyielding, as he says, “Do you know me?”

And Bucky’s imagined this, has _practiced_ this, dozens of times, but it still takes an effort to say, “You’re Steve.”

And if he’d come to him unarmed, if he’d come as a friend, Bucky might have said, “I remember you”, or maybe “You were my friend”.

But he hasn’t, and Bucky has thought about what to say in this situation—has decided, long ago, that if Steve thinks he ought to be locked up, he won’t make it harder for him.

His throat sticks together, though, and he has to swallow before he can force out, “I read about you at the museum.”

Steve’s expression is hard to read; there is none of the openness, none of the warmth, that Bucky remembers. He looks so stern, so imposing, in Bucky’s small kitchen that he almost wonders if this is the same man at all. He doesn’t remember Steve ever looking at him like that before, not even when they were fighting.

“I know you’re nervous,” Steve says. “You have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

And it shouldn’t hurt—it _shouldn’t hurt_ , that Steve suspects him—it only makes sense, it’s only _logical_ —but it does.

“I wasn’t in Vienna,” he tells him hoarsely, even though he knows it’s futile. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. They’re not planning on taking you alive.”

_The people who think you did? Does that mean—does he believe me?_

“That’s smart,” he mumbles, trying to sound calm, trying to sound like his heart isn’t beating a million miles a minute. “Good strategy.”

He can hear footsteps on the roof, now, and people coming up the stairs. Steve’s earpiece buzzes—a male voice, but Bucky can’t hear what he’s saying.

Steve takes a step forward. “This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck,” he says, and for the first time, he sounds—anxious? Concerned? It’s hard to tell.

Bucky has imagined what would happen if Steve found him, has played out every possibility a hundred different ways. He’s imagined Steve forgiving him, Steve demanding explanations, Steve shooting him on sight. If he’s honest, though, this has always been the most likely scenario.

He sighs. “It always ends in a fight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title and dialogue are all from Captain America: Civil War.


End file.
